Shoes
by streakie257
Summary: Danny has a shoe fetish, at least he does when it comes to one particular woman. She's worn lots of shoes. DL. Collection of oneshots.
1. Running Shoes

Shoes

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Disclaimer: Ain't mine

Summary: Danny has a shoe fetish, at least he does when it comes to one particular woman. She's worn lots of shoes. DL. Collection of oneshots.

I deleted this, changed the format, sorta, now resubmited this. on with take two...

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_You want to fall in love with a shoe, go ahead. A shoe can't love you back, but on the other hand, a shoe can't hurt you too deeply either. And there are so many nice-looking shoes.  
Allan Sherman._

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Running Shoes

He loved her in running shoes. They weren't the most attractive things on the planet; to put it

plainly they were hideous. At one time they had been white, now they were grey with New York's

signature grime. So why did he like them? Because they were ugly. She wasn't out to impress, she

was working out. Watching her made him want to start running. He had never been one for jogging,

but she inspired him to give it a try. Maybe one day they could run together. There were a pair of

blondes behind her and they tried to get his eye, but they only succeeding in making him lover her

more. These girls had spotless shoes and flat stomachs displayed by bright sports bras. Their teeny –

tiny shorts showed tattoos. They weren't running they were looking cute. He rolled his eyes and

finished his coffee before returning his gaze to Lindsay now down the path. She was gorgeous by

not having ulterior motives. Her clothes were sweaty and too big, her hair was cranked back into a

tight bun, and her shoes were hideous. And he loved it.

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_A/N: My mother freaked out when she read this, "Danny's too cute for a shoe fetish! I don't want Danny to have a shoe fetish!" I think we all have fetishes, and of them all is shoes really that bad. _


	2. Flats

Disclaimer: Ain't mine.

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Flats

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_Uptown girl  
You know I can't afford to buy her pearls  
But maybe someday when my ship comes in  
She'll understand what kind of guy I've been  
And then I'll win  
And when she's walking, she's looking so fine  
And when she's talking, she'll say that she's mine  
She'll say I'm not so tough  
Just because I'm in love with and uptown girl  
Billy Joel_

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He hated her in flats. They brought dangerous images to his mind. Flats accentuated how small

she truly was, he would forget that, she seemed so much bigger, but in flats the illusion of her

personality was gone. Granted he wasn't a tall guy, but he still had her by a good six inches when

she was in flats. When she stood next to him, but only could look him in the shoulder he felt the

overwhelming need to protect and take care of her. She was just so damn small in them. And her

feet… she could fit both of hers into one of his shoes, they were so small. In those flats they looked

like they were bound. Seeing her as small and delicate inflated his already high feelings and desires.

He wanted to be her protector, her man, her Danny. When she wore those shoes he wanted to sing

old jazz, or maybe some Billy Joel, take her to little regulars' only restaurants and dancing. He

wanted to take her to his mother. He could just see her in those flats, that one cream sweater and a

nice skirt sharing a meal with his family. It was a cozy picture. His mother would eat her up with a

spoon. His father wouldn't be as thrilled at first, but Lindsay would win him. The family would

love her. He could see her at a good ol' fashion Messer dinner, screaming, swearing, and kids

everywhere. In this picture he could see a little boy following around his older cousins, a little boy

with his eyes and her hair. In his mind's movie he could see their son climbing into his lap and

pressing a little hand to Lindsay's stomach. He called her Mama. Lindsay's sweater looked like she

was smuggling a basketball. She was pregnant again, pregnant with their second child. She looked

over the dark haired toddler and that look in her eyes… The picture made his heart skip beats. But it

would never happen. She'd never be his, damn his reputation of being a lady killer. The truth was

once he had joined the force his dates had gotten fewer. And since she got there they had almost

been nonexistent. Cindy had only been a few months, like three. And she was the first in like six.

But Lindsay thought he was incapable of having a relationship. Boy was she wrong. With her he

wanted everything. He found himself lobbing Lindsay Messer around in his head. Cindy didn't get

that train of thought, Cindy Messer? That didn't hold a candle to Mrs. Lindsay whatever her middle

name was Monroe Messer. And he wanted children with her. The thought made him swell. But

procreation with Cindy made him ill. Seeing Lindsay in those flats made him think about all the

things he wanted with her but couldn't have. And he hated it.


	3. Heels

Disclaimer: Still ain't mine.

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Heels

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_Remember, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels. Faith Whittlesey._

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He loved her in heels. They meant she'd be in some funky outfit of self expression. She'd be in a

good mood, ready to banter and play. The sound of the stiletto on tile was like music to him,

making him want to dance. And on days she was in heels he knew her mood would be one that she

would join him in an impromptu dance party. He loved her heels because they instilled the fear of

God in him. He had seen _Redeye._ In those bad boys she was a ball busting, kick ass fem fatal. She

had presents, she demanded attention. And it was damn sexy. She was like sex on legs in those

stilettos. And those legs had run down a suspect with out breaking a heel. In heels she was

superwoman, and super sexy. What domestic love flats brought to mind was erased by carnal

longing for this Montana sex kitten. He could banish away thoughts that would cloud his work

when she wore heels. He could scare himself or reprimand himself for not being honorable, either

way he could focus when she was in heels. All these factors meant that day with Lindsay in heels

was a good day. And he loved it.

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_A/N: I love the quotes, and the shoes. Helena Christensen said "I was born in high heels and have worn them ever since. There are just so many fun things about a pair of a stillettos._


	4. Kinky Boots

Disclaimer: STILL ain't mine!

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Kinky Boots

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_See them out on the street at night, walkin'  
Picking up on all kinds of strangers  
If the price is right you can score  
If you're pocket's nice  
But you want a good time  
Bad Girls; Donna Summer_

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He hated her in kinky boots. Those thigh high red leather boots were what landed her in the bed in

front of him. The one attached to all sorts of beeping machines. Those goddamn boots were why

she was heavily sedated and had a chart at the end of her bed. Stella had actually talked Mac into

letting Lindsay go undercover, and do it wearing those boots. Hooker Boots. Kinky Boots. To see

her in them and the rest of her get up drove him wild. No more admiring her gazelle like run. He

certainly couldn't take her to mom, and he wanted a different kind of fun when he looked at those

shoes. That should've been a tip off that something was going to go wrong. And then to let her go

on with the plan with no protection from anyone, what had he been thinking? He should've made

Mac let him be her John. Or had Flack, Hawkes, Mac could've done it. Hell Stella. One of their

own should've been the John, given her some protection. But no, he had let her down. And she was

now unconscious in the bed in front of him. He'd say she looked peaceful, but her face was too

bruised to say that, he only saw his anger when he looked at her. He was angry at himself for not

protecting her, at her for those boots, at Mac and Stella for the case. He was mad at everyone.

Couldn't they see she was precious? Couldn't they see she was too important to have anything

happen to her? Couldn't they see what they'd done to him? He had the one who had found her; it

had taken all he had not to kill the guy he found with her. He was responsible for all the internal

bleeding and bruising. Flack had to physically pull him off the guy. He couldn't see that Lindsay

was his world. After getting away from the guy he had fallen to his knees and held her. He held her

and cursed those kinky boots, the root of this problem. In those moments he had thought he'd never

see her again; and that thought hollowed him out. He couldn't feel his blood pump, his heart, his

lungs. Then all he could feel was pain, his throat burned, and his stomach was doing a gymnastics

routine. He was cynical, but never one for hopelessness. But looking at her beaten black and blue

with broken kinky boots made him lose all feeling and emotion. And he hated it.

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_Review? XXOO streakie_


	5. Barefoot

Disclaimer: If I owned it then I would have tons of money and no need to get a real job.

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Barefoot

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_Barefoot children in the rain  
__Got no need to explain  
__We'd be swingin' on a ball and chain  
__It's always understood by those who play the game  
__Barefoot children in the rain  
__La la la la la  
__La la la la la  
__La la la la la  
__La la la la la la  
__Barefoot children in the rain  
__Jimmy Buffett_

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He loved her barefoot. Ten naked toes painted dusty rose padding around his apartment in the

early morning beat out anything he could think of. All the things she could do to her feet he like this

one the best. He sat up in bed and watched her blurry frame move around his bedroom. He needed

to get her slippers, the wood floor had to be fridge, but he couldn't bare the thought of not seeing

those toes. He had seen those toes in everyway. He had worshiped them when they made love. He

had watched water swirl around them in the shower. He had ticked them when he told her he was

just going to massage them. He watched her crack her back and pull at one of her pajama pant legs.

She was wearing one of his shirts and a pair of decrepit sweat pants. They didn't have to have sex

every night; he was more than content with old tee shirts and cuddles. Her sticking blocks of ice on

his legs. He was so lucky to have those feet (however cold they were) in his apartment, the rest of

her too he might add. She was his. And he was hers. Those thought provoking shoes were in his

closet. And he loved it.

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_A/N: May Danny and Lindsay live happily ever after with lots and lots of shoes. Review please, I'd love you forever. As for any confusion you may have felt from saying I had resubmitted this. I looked at it with out spacing an it was block paragraphs. and my one review confirmed what I feared it was a bitch to read. My thanks to VivianeAeryn._


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